


Kind of an Apology

by Serazimei



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, I'm starting to like that Tag, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Jaskier | Dandelion, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Supportive Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Timeline What Timeline, he tries, kind of fix it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22970593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serazimei/pseuds/Serazimei
Summary: Geralt acts pretty weird after their reunion. And Jaskier, for the life of him, can‘t figure out why.AKA: The obligatory Mountain Scene Fix It Fic every Witcher Fan probably writes at some point.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 26
Kudos: 588





	Kind of an Apology

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't even gotten to that episode yet and am already trying to emotionally compensate for it XD  
> It just has so much potential and I'll probably write a few more fics revolving around it. The other thing is that  
> it's hard for me to think of a way to write something happening after season 1 that doesn't at least mention the scene,  
> because leaving it resolutionless just feels wrong.
> 
> Anyway I wanted to include Yennefer and Ciri in this. Tbh I love the idea of Jaskier and Yennefer having a sort  
> of love/hate friendship going on.

Decades. He had travelled with Geralt on and off for decades only to be shot down on that blasted mountain. And then it was radio silence for five years as the world around them went to shit, war eating up the land. Jaskier, despite his dramatics and flair, had not been overly mad at his Witcher friend for long. You didn‘t trod after the biggest grump on the whole planet for such a long time without developing a very thick skin. The words had hurt, of course. And he had nicely used the rage and heartbreak to compose „Her Sweet Kiss“ as the last big „Fuck You“ to both Yennefer and Geralt. And then he had gone off to do his own thing. Because Jaskier was a bard and the show had to go on and such. He knew, somewhere in his gut, that he would see Geralt again in time. And when that happened he would plow him over the head with his lute, scream at him a little and then pack his things to go with him again. Because the world somehow had managed to get even colder and Geralt was the only warm enough place Jaskier knew of.  
Of course nothing ever worked the way Jaskier planned. He was about to get hanged for debauchery when he saw Geralt next. Had stood in front of the masses in a way he didn‘t appreciate at all, rope already biting into his neck, when the Witcher appeared. His friend was able to talk the executioner out of the execution and didn‘t waste any time in dragging the bard to the next inn to tend to his wounds.

„A spy? Really, Jaskier?“ the Witcher rumbled, worry creasing his brow as he applied some chamomille salve to the marks on Jaskiers throat. That hanging business had been nasty.

„Had to get my stories from somewhere, didn‘t I?“ Jaskier tried to joke, but his voice came out all...well...strangled.

A sharp look from his old friend made the bard sigh. „Look you‘re not the only one the war has swept up. It was the best way I could think of to stay informed and maybe be able to help...“

The sudden weight on him nearly made him fall back on the bed. As it were, arms tightened around him to keep him pressed against the Witchers solid form. Gingerly Jaskier returned the embrace, patting his friend on the back.

„I missed your ridiculous ass.“

Jaskier fought between a snicker and an offended gasp. „I could say the same, my dear friend.“

The arms around him pressed him closer for a brief second, before letting him go again. Molten gold stared him down with an intensity Jaskier wasn‘t used to anymore.

„Would you travel with me again?“

Jaskier laughed something heavy lifting from his heart. Alright, guess he wouldn‘t sacrifice his precious lute, after all. „Always.“

There wasn‘t a spoken apology. But that was fine with Jaskier. There was, however, a change in their relationship the bard had a hard time putting his finger on.  
Jaskier knew Geralt to dish out insults like they were an appropriate alternative to small talk. He knew him to be gruff and easily annoyed. In the over twenty years he had travelled with the broody man Jaskier could count the times he had seen the Witcher smile on his hand. Singular. And laughter had been even more rare.  
Geralt was, of course, deep down a kind hearted, soft creature. He would show his concern and friendship in the way he would yank Jaskier back from danger, or intimidate angry husbands into leaving the minstrel alone. So the bard had learned to take the insults and turn them into banter, weave Geralts annoyance into a game both could use to get their minds off the boredom of the road.  
Said change made him reevaluate everything he had learned about the man and question his former solutions to Geralts oftentimes icy attitude.

It started with Pegasus.

„I have my own horse now, you know.“ Jaskier told Geralt conversationally as they went down to the stables.

„Hmm.“

„He‘s called Pegasus and he‘s coming with us.“

„Hmmm.“

And that was that. No teasing, no annoyance about maybe having to pay more for two horses. Jaskier had mentally gone through the whole conversation beforehand, outlining his arguments and everything. Only to get no resistance at all. It was mind boggling. A revelation. And Jaskier had absolutely no idea what to do with it.  
The next few days felt like the first days of travelling with the Witcher. It was a little awkward. 5 years wasn‘t exactly a long time for Witchers, Jaskier was sure, but for him it took a while to relearn accompanying Geralt again. Jaskier felt caught off guard a lot. Gone were the rather crude insults thrown at him whenever he chattered too much. In their stead came softspoken barbs about as sharp as a pillow.  
Otherwise the Witcher was still oh so silent, leaving Jaskier to fill the empty space with words, melodies and noises of discomfort when they had gone on too long without a break. And instead of complains or harsh „Shut up‘s“ Jaskier sometimes saw Geralts lips quirk upwards by about a milimeter.

And then there was the additional care his white haired travel companion suddenly showed.

„I‘m not as young as I used to be, Geralt.“ Jaskier had jokingly complained once. And after that Geralt would take more breaks. Letting Jaskier walk around and stretch before going off again.

„I‘m freezing!“ Jaskier would say on especially cold nights and Geralt would settle beside him, stoke the fire and share his cloak and body heat.

They slept in inns more often and while still gruff, Geralt got downright fussy whenever Jaskier got hurt. It was odd. A welcome change, but odd.  
Jaskier thought he finally solved the puzzle when they ran into Yennefer and Ciri on their way to the next contract. The young lion ran into Geralts embrace and Jaskier had never seen such a gentle smile on his friends face before. Now the softness made sense. Geralt was a father now. Of course he would mellow out. Especially with such a bright child.

„Julian!“

He had kind of expected to be hugged next, but not as enthusiastically. „Why hello, my dear! I‘m glad you are well.“

„Seems like you found your songbird again.“ Yennefer said, a small smirk adorning her handsome features.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at her, smile a bit sharp. He still didn‘t like her. „We ran into each other, yes. Good thing too! Some people really had the nerve to try and rob this world of the twinkling star that is myself. You wouldn‘t believe it!“

Ciri giggled at his dramatics, while Geralt muttered a half hearted „I would...“

To Jaskiers surprise Yennefer just raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms and stared the Witcher down.

Jaskier knew that displeased look. „What is it?“

Yennefers huffed. „Really Geralt?“

Geralt had the decency to look sheepish, which only confused Jaskier more. He turned to Ciri and whispered „What am I missing?“ He only got a grin and a shrug in return.

„Geralt.“ Yennefer pressed, sounding very much done.

„We didn‘t meet by chance, Jaskier.“ the Witcher sighed. „I came for you.“

Jaskier blinked up at him. „Oh.“

Well what was he to do with _that_ information? Nothing. He decided quickly. He had already forgiven Geralt long ago, knew the Witcher liked his companionship. Geralt _had_ said, that he had missed him. So it did make sense. Five years was still a long time to wait for an apology. But gazing at Cirilla, knowing of the war and Cintras fall, he understood. Sometimes there were more pressing issues to attend to first.

So Jaskier shrugged, grinning as warmth flodded his heart. „Well it was still lucky he got to me when he did, or else he would have only had a shallow ditch to find.“ The bard had his back to Geralt, so he didn‘t see the crestfallen look and the protective twitch in his direction. He did, however, see the spark of fear and sadness in both Yennefer and Cirilla and was fast to steer the conversation to somewhere else. „And I‘m glad he found you too, little lion. You look well.“

That made the princess grin again. „Thank you. I‘m in training, now.“

„Oh?“ he raised an interested eyebrow and glanced at Geralt for a second, who had shuffled closer to him while he hadn‘t been looking. „You brought her to Kaer Morhen?“

A stiff nood.

„And you are training her, too I presume?“ Jaskier turned to Yennefer, who seemed surprised to be spoken to.

„I am.“

„She‘s a good mother.“ Geralt rumbled beside him and something hot and ugly twisted in Jaskiers stomach. It didn‘t stay long. Not when he actually looked at Yennefer and saw the way Ciri leaned into her, the soft way the witch stroked the lions mane. So they had both grown soft in parenthood. Who would have thought? It suit them well. Made Jaskier jealous as balls, but still…

„And what are you doing here, then?“ he couldn‘t help but ask either way, careful to sound cheerful and not accusing.

Yennefer shrugged. „She wanted to get out and take a breather for a bit.“

Oh, so the girl already had them wrapped around her little finger. The things he had missed. He wished he had been there alongside Geralt when he found Ciri. He wished he had been to the Witchers Keep with him. He wished- Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when Geralt nosed reluctantly at his hair. It wasn‘t yet a nuzzle, but very close. Jaskier gave him a confused look, the only reply a semi embarassed hum.

They travelled together for a bit. And Jaskier was surprised at how much he started to enjoy the additional company. Yennefer still had the same bite as ever, but she took his insults with grace as well and soon they would find themselves going in circles for hours, quipping back and forth with no real heat behind the words. It was nice not to be the sole provider of sound for a change. Although he still talked the most out of all of them, if only to feed the little one with stories she was starving to hear.  
It got weirdly domestic after a while. Jaskier singing them to sleep on troubled nights, bickering with the sorceress, laughing with Ciri. And Geralt, always close at his side never letting him trail behind, keeping watch over them all.  
Still Jaskier couldn‘t really settle into the new routine. Something was still amiss. Something still didn‘t quite fit. Yennefer and Geralt didn‘t have that passionate, explosive spark between them anymore, for one. At first he had thought it was because they wanted to spare Ciri the embarassment of catching them in the act. But then there would have been longing in their gazes and tension between them. Instead there was a sort of warm friendship now. A candle instead of the raging inferno it once had been. And both seemed happier for it. More relaxed.  
But there was something between them still, that flickered up now and again. Not lust. Not love of the romantic kind. But a sort of unspoken arguement. A challenge in Yennefers eyes. A defense in the rise of Geralts eyebrows. Sometimes Yennefer would drag the Witcher away and they would both come back frustrated, Geralt stomping off to talk to Roach and Yen plopping down beside Jaskier.

„He‘s insufferable.“ she would mutter at him then and Jaskier would say something along the lines of „Says the most insufferable bitch on the continent.“ And she would laugh and they would throw carefully crafted words at each other until Yens mood was lifted and Jaskier could go back to playing his lute.

One night, when Jaskier is tired enough to be the first to go to sleep after having broken up a rather harsh arguement between the Witcher and the Witch he feels her brushing her fingers gently through his hair. The whispered „Sometimes I really doubt we deserve you.“ makes his heart clench and then flutter. Undecided if it should be happy or sad.  
It left him curious and wrong footed. The way he was treated after five years of radio silence.  
Eventually they parted ways with the two girls again, Ciri needing to go back to training. And with the two gone there was no one left who could divert his focus away from Geralts weird behaviour.  
He felt every glance and every aborted move towards him. He was more than aware of the few inches the Witcher crept closer to him, the additional food he brought for the human whenever they had travelled long. Jaskier started to test the new boundaries. Tentatively at first, not wanting to break the fragile thing they had going on now. He would initiate touches again. Something he had learned to avoid in the first years of knowing Geralt. A clap on the Witchers back for a job well done, leaning into him a little more when they were sitting in taverns drinking ale. Geralt let him, sometimes even slightly leaned into the touch.  
After a bit Jaskier tried stealing the mans food during a performance. And to everyones shock the Witcher just huffed in annoyance. Next town over Jaskier stole the mans ale, only getting a mildly offended glare in return.  
On a very special occasion, where Jaskier had been drunk out of his mind after a very successful, panic enducing hunt and an even better night of performing, the bard had even thrown himself into the Witchers lap once. And again Geralt had grunted and complained a little. But he had also kept the babbling bard steady, letting him rest for a moment before dragging him forcefully to bed.

It was when Geralt actually asked if he could help Jaskier bath that the bards curiousity peaked to something he couldn‘t hold back anymore.  
He hadn‘t wanted to ask about it. Hadn‘t wanted to hint at Geralts changed attitude. For fear of driving the Witcher off again. But maybe this conversation was long overdue. Jaskier loved the attention he had now. The freedom of being allowed so close. But he also wasn‘t a fool. He could taste the tension in the air. On some days Geralt seemed as if he was walking on eggshells around him. And Jaskier didn‘t like to see his friend uncomfortable like this.

„Age has made you quite tame, dear wolf.“ the bard said instead of accepting Geralts help. The bath could wait.

The Witcher visibly tensed at that. „If you don‘t want my help-“

„We both know that‘s not what I‘m implying here.“ Jaskier gently interrupted.

For a moment Jaskier thought the White Wolf would bolt out of the room. But then he just sighed, long and weary, and went to sit down on the bed closest to the door, facing the bard. „I hoped we wouldn‘t...talk...about that.“

„I didn‘t want to, for a while. But seeing you so tense all the time makes me feel bad.“

At that Geralt just tensed up even more. And damn it all now _Jaskier_ felt as if he was walking on eggshells, or worse yet, thin ice. The price of going forward too fast not sliced feet but death. Death of a friendship. Of something that might have been more. Tentatively he approached the Witcher and kneeled down in front of him.

„Geralt.“ he coaxed drawing golden eyes to his own, blue ones. „Talk to me. What‘s wrong.“

„I don‘t want to upset you again.“

Jaskier blinked up at him. Of all the things… Was he still-? „Why?“ he asked,voice cracking a bit in confusion and growing dread.

„Mountain.“ the man forced out, eyebrows drawn and guilt written all over his handsome face.

The bard punched out a breath that really would have loved to be a laugh. „Geraaalt.“ he groaned. „You‘re still hung up on that?“

The Witcher wrinkled his nose, suddenly confused. „That...makes you sad?“

„Well...“ he couldn‘t lie, not with Geralt being able to smell his emotion. It was disappointing, knowing all the affection had been given out of pity and guilt. The boundaries he had crossed without real consent. What a fool he had been. He should have asked sooner… Swallowing around the lump in his throat he forced himself to clarify. „I‘m not mad at you for that anymore. I know you didn‘t mean it. You don‘t have to force yourself so much.“

Now Geralt just looked even more confused. „Force myself?“

Jaskier stood gesturing and pacing around the room as he tried to explain, not daring to look at his friend any longer. „All of this. You‘ve been nice Geralt, much more so than ever. You‘ve gone out of your way to make sure I‘m extra comfortable and cared for and it seems to pain you to hold yourself back like that. I‘m not made out of glass you know. I won‘t break down crying just because you push me away when I‘m getting too touchy or say a harsh word when I get too annoying. I mean have you heard half of the things Yen and I throw at each other?“

He stopped then. Took a breath and turned back to Geralt. And. Shit. He had confused the Witcher completely now, it seemed. That was the look of a lost puppy if he had ever seen one.

„You...don‘t like it?“

Jaskier made a frustrated little noise in the back of his throat. „That‘s not it. I like that you show you care. I hate that it‘s out of a misguided feeling of guilt. Especially because you seem to really hate doing so.“

„But...that‘s not. I don‘t hate it.“

„Huh?“

Geralt stands up with a growl and steps up to him, then halts abruptly, hands frozen in mid air. Jaskier glances at them, sees how they tremble and then tracks his eyes back up to Geralts.  
„But you‘ve been so tense all the time. And you glare into the distance a lot. Much more so than before.“

„Maybe. But not because I hate what I‘m doing. Or what you‘re doing.“

Jaskier makes a confused little sound. He had no clue whatsoever how else he should interprete what Geralt had been doing. His feelings were a mess at this point. Hope fighting with disappointment, fear and anxiety. „Then what-“

„I don‘t want to fuck up again, Jaskier.“

„I told you, I‘m not going to break-“

„No!“ Geralt snarled, clearly frustrated. Jaskier, like always, proofed to be unique by just standing there, not moving an inch and having the gall to raise an eyebrow. „That‘s not what I mean.“ The Witcher tried again. „I know I‘m not getting rid of you that easily.“

„At least that finally got through your thick skull.“ Jaskier deadpanned, hands wandering to his hips, body shifting into his standard sassy stance.

Geralt took a deep breath. „I don‘t want to fuck up.“

„You‘ve already said that! That doesn‘t clarify shit, Geralt.“ the bard whined. Damn how he wished that he had just taken Geralt up on his offer. Now the bath water was probably cold and he wouldn‘t get the chance to feel Geralts hands in his hair.

„I know. I‘m not good with words.“

„Understatement of the century.“

„Jaskier!“

The growl that had so many people nearly piss themselves just made the bard roll his eyes. „Just spit it out already! Come on!“

„I want-“ the sound that followed resembled that of a cat dying. Instead of continuing Geralt stepped up, hands grabbing for the loose fabric of Jaskiers doublet to pull him close. Before Jaskiers brain could catch up with the action he had his arms full of Witcher and a cold nose buried in the crook of his neck. A keen left the White Wolf and the arms around him tightened as Jaskier tried to wriggle, testing the hold his friend had on him.

With a laugh he brought his own arms up, gently patting the distressed Witcher. And, after a few seconds of debate, he dipped down to bury his nose in white hair. „You want?“ he prompted gently, even though he could guess at what his Witcher wanted to say.

„More.“ came the muffled reply. „Of you.“ added as an afterthought.

„Take it then.“

Reluctantly Geralt pulled away to get a good look at his little lark. Bright eyes and an even brighter smile welcomed him. „You tell me when I overstep a line.“

„I‘ll bash you over the head with my lute.“ Jaskier promised. „Didn‘t get to do that last time, after all.“

**Author's Note:**

> End Scene I decided to leave out of the main fic:
> 
> „Hmm.“ Reluctantly Geralt pushed his lips against Jaskiers, before darting the few inches back again. „I am still sorry about the mountain.“
> 
> Jaskier groaned. „Enough of that already, you dolt! I forgive you. There. Now heat the water and wash me like you promised.“
> 
> A low, pleased rumble went through Geralts body. One that Jaskier could feel pressed against him like that. „Gladly.“


End file.
